


Mockable

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Inspired by Real Events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-21
Updated: 2005-06-21
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin witness something that no one should have to see . . . and then proceed to make fun of it. -- This story isn't at all serious, so don't let the warning scare you -- it just reflects recent pop culture.  Please review!





	Mockable

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

It all began one day when Brian arrived home to find Justin huddled on the sofa. He was laughing hysterically, holding his stomach as he did so, and it was apparent that this had been going on for some time.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" He turned his attention to the television, but all that was on was the five o'clock news.

"Oh God! Oh God, you missed it, Brian! Fucking funniest thing ever!" Justin barely managed to get the words out before he started laughing again.

"You've lost your fucking mind." And then he'd gone into the bedroom to change out of his suit, leaving the younger man lost amid gales of laughter.

By the following day it was all over the news . . . Tom Cruise jumping around like a madman, nearly molesting Oprah, and then dragging poor little Joey Potter out from the green room. And yes, he knew who she was, because Justin, during the beginning of their "relationship" used to obsess over the lives of those god-awful unrealistic teenagers with their lyrical prose that no one, not even Blake or Tennyson, would ever use in daily life because to do so was to sound pompous as hell.

He tried to ignore it, though, to ignore the constant news coverage, the chatter around the office, the pictures of the horror known as "TomKat" on the cover of every single newspaper and magazine to arrive on his doorstep.

He even tried to ignore it when, a few weeks after the shit hit the fan, Justin stepped into the loft wearing a blue "Free Katie" tee shirt. Unfortunately, he couldn't even get away with that.

"What?" Justin asked, taking note of the consternation so clearly written across Brian's features.

"I can't believe you're wearing that."

"I like it. Besides, it was a good deal. Seriously, it only cost, like, twenty bucks." He dropped his messenger bag on the floor by one of the bar stools and made his way over to the older man, who was lounging on the sofa, an open copy of _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_ on his chest.

"Hm. That was twenty bucks you could have spent on something else. Like condoms and lube. You know . . . something useful."

Justin unceremoniously shoved Brian's feet off the sofa and sat down. "Ha fucking ha. Even you have to admit that their so-called relationship is thoroughly mockable."

"And here I was thinking you were the type who lived for huge romantic declarations," Brian replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Romantic, yes. Levels of insanity that lead to nearly molesting Oprah . . . no. But you've gotta admit that it's funny." Justin leaned forward and picked up the remote, turning on the tv and flipping immediately to E!, the only channel with twenty-four-hour coverage of what Justin liked to think of as "TomKatGate."

"They're both crazy," Brian muttered a few minutes later as yet another bout of insanity came to an end, quickly followed by the flavor-of-the-month entertainment "reporter" giving her opinions of the disaster while her cleavage threatened to spill from her skimpy top. "They've both been brainwashed. But I fear your little Joey has fared far worse than Tom."

"Stop calling her Joey. And why's that?"

"Did you listen to a fucking thing they just said? Surely during the five years or however the fuck long that she played that Joey chick she must have picked up a decent vocabulary. I mean, come on . . . teenagers don't talk like that. And I should know, after living with you when you _were_ one. So, theoretically, she should know at least one word other than 'amazing' to describe whatever the fuck is going on between them. But, obviously, she's been brainwashed. Her sanity was the first to go, and now her ability to form a variety of sentences has descended into the abyss as well."

"What the hell have you been drinking?"

"Keep asking me what I think of this fucked up publicity stunt and I'll tell you," Brian replied, as an excited voice suddenly blared through the television speakers.

"This just in. Tom Cruise was sprayed in the face with water from a fake microphone while giving an interview at the premiere of _War of the Worlds_ in London earlier today. Apparently it was part of a comedy show scheduled to air on Channel Four."

"Oh shit!" Justin exclaimed, a small ripple of laughter coursing through him.

"Jesus Christ, it was just a water shot! Now, if it had been a--."

"Brian!"

"What? You asked me to mock it," Brian replied with his trademark tongue-in-cheek grin. "Fucking forget about this shit, okay?" He grabbed the remote and turned the television off, then tossed both the remote and his book onto the coffee table. "Besides, _War of the Worlds_ looks horrible anyway. If I have to suffer through any of his movies, I'd rather wait for _Mission: Impossible 3."_

"Since when do you like _Mission: Impossible?"_

"What can I say? It's always inspired me." He grinned at the younger man for a moment. "You know the saying . . . 'Your mission," he popped open two of the buttons on his jeans, "should you choose to accept it. . . .' "


End file.
